


Various Collected NPC Scenes (Re-Post from 2015 Dreamwidth)

by The_W_Is_Silent



Category: Planeshift Fictional TV Series Campaign
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 15:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_W_Is_Silent/pseuds/The_W_Is_Silent
Summary: Random NPC scenes from PlaneShift compiled in a post here.This is just a RE-Post from 2015 because I finally have an AO3





	Various Collected NPC Scenes (Re-Post from 2015 Dreamwidth)

**Elliot/Callion:**  
"I don't like it." Elliott sat in front of the door pointedly staring at his friend. "Why do you have to leave now?"  
"You know how long I've wanted to check out this portal."  
"Didn't you say it was impossible to get at? That it's guarded by the Layers of Hell?"  
"Yes, but with two rogues I can get through. Think of how much I can learn."  
Elliott growled again, but didn't offer further protest. Callion was a hard man to convince once he'd settled on something. Arguments based in the realm of 'feelings' worked even less. Even when those feelings were a non-ending sense of foreboding. Something big was coming. Elliott knew that much at least. Whether it was a natural sense from his fea nature, or the snippets of conversations he'd heard from Callion and the other three, the dragon wasn't sure.  
"Well, how do I look?" Callion struck a pose.  
He looked like an idiot. His green robes were obviously too large now and hung loose on his overly-skeletal structure. No matter how many times Elliott had shoved food at him, he'd still lost weight steadily over the past year too caught up in research to bother eating or sleeping. Large bags sat under his eyes and he had too many wrinkles for a young man, made all too obvious with his smile. The gnarled staff he held was too tall, and the magical pack too large--although Elliott knew it weighed almost nothing.  
To top off his outfit a patchy pointed wizard's hat sat skewed on Callions head. Elliott had fixed every hole himself--using every obnoxious color he could find--and for some reason, Callion refused to either part with it, or fix it himself using magic.  
Elliott harrumphed and looked away.  
Callion relaxed his pose and limped over--the limp was a souvenir from his last extended trip. "Elliott, I'll be fine. I'll be back to mess up this place again before you know it."  
Elliott growled again. He didn't really have a reason to doubt. Callion was a powerful wizard, when he was actually trying. "You could try not making a mess when you come home."  
Callion kneeled next to Elliott and pulled him into a quick embrace. "I'll try."  
They both knew he wouldn't.  
Callion stood and began to chant the spell for teleportation.  
"Come home soon."  
The wizard nodded before he disappeared.  
By the end of the first week Elliot had already cleaned the entire tower. It was much easier when Callion wasn't around running a new experiment or working on his latest research project. In the second week he had reorganized his horde three times. At the end of the second week he had added additions to both his horde and the tower. Still there was no word and no sign of Callion's return. The wizard could have at least called, although knowing his normal absentminded state, Elliot wasn't surprised he hadn't. Still, he kept busy. Kept finding more things to do to stave off the sense of dread that grew with each day.  
It wasn't until the end of the third week that Elliott finally got a message.  
In the library sat a too-large travelsack, a long stick, and a patchwork hat.  
Callion was not coming home.  
Elliott scanned the pile of objects. The tower key was missing. It should have returned as well--unless he'd given away or he wasn't--.  
Maybe… Elliott curled on top of the sack and waited.  
The creaking of the entrance door (seldom used) a few days later broke him from his vigil. Elliott moved the three most precious objects to his horde and donned his magical disguise. The person who came through the trapdoor was not Callion. The dragon attacked without thinking, but the person ducked away. The next to peak up was a gnome. Elliott froze. She had the key. Callion had given her the key...  
  
**Kyr**  
Kyr looked back over the mountain. There was no way Skaldi had survived. No way any of them had survived.  
"Come on, we still have a long walk" He started down the trail on the backside of the mountain.  
The corgi looked up at him, turned around and barked.  
"Skaldi's not coming. They got eaten by a dragon"  
The dog didn't respond except to sit down.  
He sighed and crouched down next to it. "What am I supposed to do with you anyway? Kyr the famed assassin and his terrible side-kick the two-foot tall fluff-muffin"  
The dog walked over and put its head in his lap, looking up at him.  
"Hey, I did try to save them. I mean, I wasn't dumb enough to go take on a dragon, but I did try"  
The dog didn't respond, but shifted a little on his lap.  
"Hells, why am I feeling guilty. It's not like I even know them and I'm no paladin and...and why am I explaining this to a dog?" He pet the corgi, which closed it's eyes.  
"At least I get to start over. New underground, new beginning, new…" He trailed off and let his hand fall.  
The dog looked up at him again and wagged its tail.  
"Do you think I haven't considered not going back?" He paused "I-I don't know how to survive any other way" He looked up to watch the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon.  
"I hope the afterlife is a better place" He bowed his head for a moment and stood.  
"Come on, I know we're in trouble when I'm getting sentimental...and talking to dogs doesn't help. No offense. I think the long walk will do us both some good."  
He set off with the corgi on his heels.  
  
**###**  
"Are you not going back to the underground?"  
Kyr spun around, drawing his knife. The corgi barked in greeting and ran up to her. So much for any intimidation. The woman in front of him did not look alarmed. Quite the opposite in fact. She leaned down and pet the dog, giving him an almost mocking smile for his reaction.  
"Shiko." He sheathed the knife. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"I have a message for you."  
"Since when are you a messenger?"  
"Are you willing to barter for that information?"  
He sighed. "No. What's the message?"  
"Skaldi wanted to let you know she was alive"  
"What? They defeated the dragon?"  
The corner of her mouth tipped up in the barest hint of a smile. She wasn't going to answer.  
He composed himself. Letting her have any information for free was not smart. In the underground you weren't supposed to care about anyone. She obviously wanted more, or she would have left. Besides he couldn't see her just playing messenger.  
"Is s--Are they alright?" He asked.  
"For now. They have greater enemies then you or I."  
"How much will it cost me to know who?"  
"You have nothing I want to trade for." Shiko's expression was infruinglatingly still unreadable.  
Kyr frowned. She wasn't wrong. He had little coin to his name and an information broker like Shiko demanded a high price.  
"You were a decent assassin in Allenhroft." She said after a moment.  
"I suppose."  
"Do you know of the Varhuld Assassin's guild?"  
"Everyone who's involved with the underground does." This conversation was making him uncomfortable. If what she was implying was true, then they had great enemies indeed.  
Shiko stood. "I have no concrete information for you, however, If you value her life, I believe that is good place to start looking."  
"Start looking? I can't sneak past them, I'm not that good."  
"My message is delivered and my business is concluded. What you choose to do with information is on your own head. Farewell." She walked away.  
Kyr stared down at the corgi. "Hear that? Your proper owner is still alive."  
The dog barked and stared up at him.  
He let out half a chuckle. "They survived a dragon, they'll probably be fine against a bunch of assassins."  
The corgi let out a small whine.  
"Yeah. I didn't think so either..." He scritched it above the ears. "Looks like we're going back to the underground afterall"  
The dog whined again.  
"Don't look at me like that. You need more work than I do."  
  
**Lyon & Tsadok**  
"Why are you insisting on this duel?" The half-elf stepped back from their sparring session.  
"We've been through this. It is the best option given the circumstances." Tsadok placed the practice sword against a rock.  
"Do you really think that you and your fallen paladin friend stand a chance against a veteran commander and whoever she chooses to fight beside her?"  
"Dyr is not a fallen paladin."  
"I don't care what she is! My point stands. I've seen who you're up against and the commander alone is most likely beyond your skill. You'll die, the orcs will be slaughtered, and whatever you were hoping to achieve after that will never come pass." The half-elf took a few breaths and relaxed his grip on the pair of practice swords he still held. "If you insist on going through with this duel, let me fight in her place. I am the strongest fighter here, besides, maybe, yourself."  
"I do insist on this challenge and I will either do it alone or with her."  
"Why?"  
"Because I trust her and would be proud to fight by her side."  
"You've known her less than a week. And I don't mean to question your intelligence, but how could you possibly feel that way?"  
"Someone once told me that it's through a clash of steel that you can see another's soul." He paused and looked towards the ruins of Alenhroft. "I trust her to have my back in this engagement. I do not expect you understand, but I will not change my mind."  
The half-elf glared, but then bowed his head and his voice was low. "If that is the way it must be. I will not try to convince you further." He turned and left.  
  
  
**Lyon**  
Lyon watches as the new emperor and empress are crowned by a contingent of representatives from each major race. It's a pointless ceremony, neither of the new rulers enjoy it (not that he cares what the empress wants) but the bard insisted it was important, so there they were. Tsadok takes to it well. He looks like an emperor. The crown and regalia are just props, it's his scars, the sword on his back, his very presence that make him a king. Dyr is nothing in comparison. She looks uncomfortable, shifting weight with a stupid smile on her face that doesn't fool anyone. Around them the planar heroes stand in support. Most of them. He's sure Elliwick is there, but he can't see her. Other supporters stand further down the steps: the grand wizard, a poorly disguised dragon or two, druids, paladins, and who knows who the others were.  
Lyon's just one more person in the massive crowd with a new disguise to hide his ears and tail. A new disguise to avoid recognition. He clenches his fist. Since the first time the not-paladin strolled into the orc camp he'd hated her. They hadn't needed the heroes' help, the situation had been under control. Tsadok would have killed the dragon (with Lyon's help) and been on his way to achieving his goals...It would have been perfect. What was worse was how Tsadok had trusted her so completely. He didn't do that for anyone. He always had his guard up, and it was only after weeks of training together that he had finally been comfortable with Lyon. But, that didn't matter for Dyr. No. Because of some idiotic notion of how a fight allowed someone to 'see into your soul', Tsadok had chosen her.  
After the duel and the dragon attack, the heroes ran off to gods know where. And he'd gone to try and stop a war with the elves per request of Skjaldi. He had to do something. The world was going to shit, and he couldn't go with the heroes, with Tsadok, not after the failed Red Dragon stunt. He was used to being alone anyway,life as a dragon-slayer after-all...and then Tsadok contacted him. The half-orc wanted help to slay the White. If anyone else had asked, Lyon would have laughed and refused (you don't just kill one of THE dragons), but he flew North to the city Tsadok had been living in for the past weeks. Had he known the half-orc was up there, he would have gone sooner, and maybe things would have been different...Tsadok met him as a friend; a quick embrace and the introduction to the two leaders of the Northern island, Jeris and Emron. They trained again, fought together, and spoke about adventures.  
At the campfire the night before they were going to die, Lyon wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else in all the planes. Of course Tsadok hadn't shown his fear, in the North he'd earned the title “One-Man-Army” and joked about how adding “Dragon-Slayer” to it would make it too long. Despite his injuries, the impossibility of the task, and their small numbers, he never lost his confidence. No one doubted that the next day would end in their victory…mostly. Emron brought up goodbyes, just in case. Lyon wanted to punch him. He didn't--and doesn't--have anyone to say goodbye to. Tsadok does, although it's not a goodbye, just a chance to tell Dyr what's going on, invite her to the fight. "I'm stronger for having Dyr fight by my side."  
_...I can't win..._  
Dyr, Skjaldi and Elliwick arrived later that night. How dare she--she hadn't even stayed with him--how dare she waltz in now, on an otherwise perfect night. He left the fire; it had lost it's warmth. Skjaldi followed. He should apologize for that conversation. She hadn't deserved his bitterness, his helplessness, even if she was that woman's best friend. He learned about the Prismatic, about how the world was fucked, and about how the Planar heroes were becoming the Planar heroes. He had offered the dwarf the Red Dragon Orb that night. He was grateful she refused, he couldn't have done anything to THE White if she had taken it, even if the dragon suddenly seemed insignificant in comparison. They slew the beast at dawn and he left before he had to face them again.  
The world got worse after that. The Northern Portal opened, panic ensued, and rumors of what was coming echoed through the land. He headed to Allenhroft, it was the start of so many things, but before he could get there Skjaldi contacted him about the Red Orb. He refused to part with it this time. Skjaldi's earlier argument of him keeping the orb made sense, and if it was gone he'd have no way to fight against all the shit going on in the world. And then Dyr intervened again. She wanted to speak to him alone. For some reason she believed _she_ could convince him otherwise...and she was right. Her plea had been simple. They needed the orb to control the Red. After they used it, she would run away. The Dragon would get revenge on her, and her alone. She was near her end, anyway...She had looked tired, injured, her arm and leg were stiff. He gave her the orb. He couldn't refuse a dying request. Not from a 'planar hero'.  
Even without the orb he continued south. The lands were overrun by giant reptiles from another plane. They were easier to handle than dragons, and simple enough to tame. He hadn't expected to find many sentient beings left, so he was surprised to find Tsadok's army had reformed and grown. Lyon slipped in with a new disguise and joined as he had with the original orcish army. He didn't see much of Tsadok, there was always a new problem elsewhere, but he helped keep order and evacuate any towns they came across. When the army retreated to guard the southern border of what would be left of the material plane, he went with it. He watched the planar heroes broadcasted across the sky and cheered with the orcs when they saw Tsadok. He watched when the skies changed color and the borders transformed. He lead the charge of against the hoards of Pandemonium and then fought alongside the Planar Heroes in the impossible battle against the Prismatic.  
The fight was grueling. He watched the heroes and their allies fight against the Prismatic and it's armies. Watched people, dragons, friends (if only for this battle) die. Watched how Dyr protected her companions. How she fought next to Tsadok, protected him.  
_A person's soul is revealed through a clash of steel..._  
He fought with them. No orb, no real power, just his bow and remaining arrows, but he would give all he had to protect the man he loved and his vision for the new world, even if the half-orc chose someone else...  
He won't show himself. He hates how it turned out. He hates Dyr...That's not it. Not all of it. He doesn't know how to face them. They saved the world. She deserves to stand up there as Empress next to him. Tsadok deserves her. He wants to be happy for them. He wants to be happy that Tsadok achieved everything he wanted and more. Emperor and saviour of a new world...Red-Hawk, One Man Army, Dragon-Slayer, Planar Hero, Orc Warlord, Emperor, and Savior of the New World...Lyon wonders if that title is too long. He smiles in spite of himself. The crowd cheers around him and he turns to go.  
It's then he sees the assassin, a crossbow aimed at the new Empress. He doesn't think. His bow is in his hands and an arrow fitted. Someone screams next to him. He takes the shot. The assassin falls dead. He's tackled by guards and dragged away. It's only after he's sitting in a cell does he realize that his action was stupid. The king of the underground wouldn't let an assassin take out her friend. His tail hits the wall impatiently behind him. It had been a long time since he was in his true form. Now it seems ridiculous that he ever hid it. His ears prick towards movement in the hall.  
Guards open the door, return his stuff, and apologize for the misunderstanding. He doesn't talk to them and they leave him to escort himself out. There's a bag of money and an unfamiliar quiver in his stuff. The quiver is from the Red Hawk tribe. He knows who it used to belong to. He takes them and puts on the rest of his gear. He leaves the magical form-changing ring. He doesn't need it anymore. He grabs his bow and heads out of the prison. No one stops him, but his ears twitch backwards. An off-beat heavy footstep heads towards him. He recognizes the sound, he only knows one person who has a metal leg. He puts his bow on his back and starts to walk away.  
"Lyon. Wait. I wanted to thank you for this. For fighting with us against the Prismatic. For everything you've done." Dyr stops behind him.  
Lyon's ears flatten, and he halts. "You lied."  
"What?"  
He turns to face her. "About the orb. About running off to die so you could save them. The Red is your ally. What happened?"  
Dyr straightens. At least she's taking the accusation seriously. "I'm sorry. I gave it to the Red."  
"You what? The entire reason I didn't give the orb to Skjaldi is so he wouldn't end up with it!"  
"It was monumentally stupid for the people I love when I didn't have the power to do anything else. I'm sorry. We'll fix it."  
Lyon's tail flicks behind him. He should be angry. He should be furious for the lie. He should hold onto the one thing that gave credence for his hate. The most he can manage is frustration. Her eyes are honest. She doesn't feel bad for having done it. It was necessary to save her friends. She didn't want to lie, but she'd do it again in a heartbeat. Just as Tsadok could achieve the impossible, she was the same. He believes her.  
"Don't let him die..." He turns and walks away. "If you need a dragon-slayer, let me know."  
"Thank you, Lyon."  
He doesn't say anything else. He still doesn't like her.  
The city is too loud, there are too many people, and too many smells. He can't stay. He doesn't want to watch. For a moment he's not sure what to do, where to go. He smiles. The answer's obvious. The new empire still had enemies. He could find them. He could watch the border and shoot down anything that would threaten _his_ emperor. The extraplanar beings couldn't be _that_ much harder to kill than dragons.  
  
**Emron/Jeris**  
The two northern commanders lay silently in their borrowed bed, hands interlaced, Jeris's head resting on Emron's bare chest. This was the only moment they had managed to steal away. Demons, howlers, monsters from other worlds had kept them busy. Today it ended. The Planer Heroes would face the prismatic. If they died, the world would fall. If they won, maybe the material mortals stood a chance.  
No one had gotten much sleep between battles, especially not the army leaders. Jeris had done what he could with magic, staving off the exhaustion, but he could see Emron was near his limit. Even still the two of them hadn't slept. How could they on what they both knew could be their final night? The first rays of sunlight hit the holes of the canvas.  
_Not yet._  
Emron wrapped a strong arm around him, as if he could read Jeris's thoughts, and held him tight for a few precious moments longer. But he had to let go.  
Emron stood and donned the battle-worn armor. Jeris watched for a minute, enjoying the view of his husband's chiseled physique, before he also stood and grabbed his armor.  
"Jeris…Don't come to this battle. I can't--I won't lose you."  
Emron was their military commander, the tough, no-funny-business general. He was a brilliant swordsman and had so often been the reason their village remained safe. In most cases, Jeris trusted Emron would return to him safely and heed the orders to remain behind, but not today.  
Jeris didn't look at him. "We've talked about this. I'm coming." It wasn't fully honest. Emron tried to bring up the topic last night, but Jeris had refused to speak about it.  
"Please."  
The pain and fear in his partners voice made his heart ache, but Jeris finished putting on his armor. "I'm going."  
There wasn't anything left to say. No, there was a lifetime left to say, but no time for it now. "Emron. I love you."  
Jeris turned with a shielded arm to block the knock-out strike he knew was coming. The hilt of Emron's sword clanged uselessly off the metal. Jeris stepped in his partner's range before he could react and kissed him; Hold Person was a touch spell. Emron's eyes went wide when he felt the binding magic, but there was nothing he could do.  
Jeris pulled away, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I'm sorry. If there was another way…" He knew the apology was useless, but Emron's life mattered more than his forgiveness. "I'm a cleric of Heironeous. I will protect this city, and the Archpaladin help me, you...I promise, when it's over, I will return." He held out a hand a stroked Emron's cheek. "Goodnight."  
He released the Hold spell and caught Emron as the magical sleep took hold. He lay his partner back in the bed. Three spells brought up a barrier. Emron would be safe even if Asmodeus himself broke in. Jeris kissed him once more on the forehead before leaving the tent. He wouldn't die today; today the Gods were on their side.


End file.
